The drunk was puzzled to see the man remained silent.
"Are you alright or not?"
The man shrouded in black mist slowly turned around, lifted his gaze to Mu Han, parted his lips, and posed an unexpectedly surprising question, "Why do you insist on saving him?"
Taken aback, the drunk hadn’t quite processed why he would suddenly ask such a question and felt a sense of foreboding. With furrowed brows and a mix of tension and excitent, he involuntarily stepped forward, "Is he...?"
"No."
Relief washed over the drunk upon hearing his response, and his complexion slowly returned to normal.
"It’s none of your business."
"You should know he’s different from you; he doesn’t belong to this world."
"I don’t need you to interfere."
"Is it gratitude, or is it affection?" the man continued to inquire.
"What on earth do you want to ask?" the drunk’s expression turned unpleasant.
"I just want to know if people from two different worlds are dood to never be together." The man cast down his eyes to the small porcelain bottle in his hand, a look of desolation and conflict on his face.
The man’s abnormal behavior tonight struck the drunk as strange, having never imagined this being, neither human nor ghost, would pose such a heartbroken and helpless question to him.
"Did you call here just to ask this?"
"..."
Seeing that he was being ignored, the drunk started to probe tentatively.
"Is that Cat Demon by Jun Moyan’s side, one of yours?"
The man’s hand, caressing the dicine bottle, paused. He slowly lifted his head to look at the drunk, the expression in his eyes shifting.
"Cat Demon?"
"Don’t tell you don’t know."
"I’m well aware, but how did you co to know?"
"I stumbled upon it."
"Oh? Is that so?" the man said with a dark, indifferent tone.
"Is it or is it not?"
"What does it matter whether it is or isn’t?" The man articulated each word heavily, his gaze full of fury and murderous intent.
"If it is, what was your purpose of placing her by Jun Moyan’s side? To monitor or to monitor Jun Moyan?" No sooner had the drunk finished speaking than a hand ford from black mist clutched his throat, lifting him into the air.
An enraged voice followed.
"Mu Han, don’t think I don’t know what you’re really trying to ask. You deliberately contrived for Wen Xiao’ai to take action and save soone, then you co here to confirm Wen Xiao’ai’s identity, wanting her to help you save soone. Let tell you, don’t outsmart yourself. Do you think the one you want to save only has severed ridians? It’s hopeless, let be clear with you, no one but can save him in this world, and if you dare to harbour any other thoughts, I won’t let you off."
As the man grew increasingly agitated, the invisible hand at the drunk’s neck squeezed tighter and tighter.
The drunk’s complexion turned purplish-red, unable to breathe, his brain severely deprived of oxygen, his vision darkening by monts, and a persistent buzzing in his ears.
Instinctively, his hands clutched at the invisible hold on his neck, the desire to live compelling him to pry the hand loose, but to no avail.
At last, when the drunk was nearly out of breath, the man relented his grip.
With no support, the drunk fell to the ground in a heap.
"Cough, cough..." He knelt there, propping himself up with one hand on the ground, the other on his throat, coughing incessantly.
"Find a way to get Wen Xiao’ai to take this dicine, one pill each week."
A dicine bottle appeared before him, and the man’s words echoed forth.
The drunk looked up at the floating bottle in front of him, still coughing non-stop.
After a while, he finally stopped coughing and caught his breath, his voice strained with difficulty, "... Don’t look for ; you have no right to ask to do these things."
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